On a front-row-center throne The Would-be King relaxes. Besides him rests his Lady-Queen In tsunamis of green satin.
He’s enjoying all the accolades In the Hallowed Halls of drama Surrounding their appearance, Where the monkey trio entertains And fashion marches to and fro Clutching heavy bits of tinsel.
All is merriment and joy Until the Jester makes a jape That earns a queenly frown Which stirs the King to wipe his smile And stalk onto the dais Where he slaps the Jester on his cheek, And wearing traces of a smirk Marches back down to his throne.
The Jester lofts a lame response Into a sea of stunning silence Then the air turns shades of Royal blue And American TVs go deaf For thirty-seven seconds While across the seas the Audience enjoys the Braying of a *******.
Believing he’s impervious Or maybe he is Sampson The King pulls down the ancient walls Of cherished film tradition Reducing what was dignified To a rank back alley rumble Then later makes a fake obeisance Awash with phony tears and snot.
All hail the King of Hollywood They should take back his golden prize To penalize his hubris - And let him know rules still apply. And cause some real tears in his eyes. ljm
What do you say to such monumental arrogance?
(Why didn't this post day before yesterday when I first put it up?)